Henry  &  Emily  Bucher 

Route  #  1 

Black  Earth,  Wise.  53515 


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AN    ESSAY 


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Rev,  Roberi"  Hamill  Nassau,.  M.D, 


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AN  ESSAY 

BY 

Rev.   Robert   Hamill  Nassau,   M.D. 


PHILADELPHIA 

ALLEN.    LANE    &    SCOTT 

PRINTERS  AND   PUBLISHERS 
1911 


PREFACE. 

These  verses  were  written  on  the  occasion  of 
an  invitation  to  address  the  Literary  Societies  of 
the  Lawrenceville,  N.  J.,  Classical  and  Com- 
mercial High  School  (now,  the  John  C,  Green 
Foundation  School)  in  March,  1872. 

The  present  remarkable  Movement  toward 
the  Light,  in  the  West  Africa  Mission,  of  which 
my  closing  lines  were  almost  prophetic,  has  in- 
duced me  to  bring  them  out  from  their  forty- 
year  seclusion. 

R.  H.  Nassau. 

Philadelphia,  Pa. 
April,  191 1. 


AFRICA.       ^^^  1/ 


PROLOGUE. 

The  Hunter  seeks  each  foreign  land, 

The  wild  beasts'  rage  to  dare; 
Returns,  with  full  well-trophied  hand, 

From  mountain,  field,  and  lair. 

The  Man  of  Science  roams  the  world 

Of  fiow'r  and  insect  life; 
Nor  recks  he,  though  his  way  be  hurled 

Through  scenes  with  danger  rife. 

The  Merchant  sails  the  stormy  sea. 

Self-exiled  but  for  gain, 
And  bears  privation  willingly, 

Earth's  treasures  to  obtain. 

The  Farmer,  on  the  furrowed  field, 

Contented  casts  away. 
Not  doubting  that  the  Harvest-yield 

His  Spring-time  toil  will  pay. 

These  give  their  life,  their  time,  their  gold, 

Hopeful  e'en  when  deceived. 
Loss  warns  with  story  truly  told, 

But  never  is  believed. 

(5) 


But,  when  one  goes  to  heathen  land, 
And  gives,  in  moral  strife, 

His  toil  to  loose  from  Error's  hand, 
And  save  immortal  life, 

His  task  is  called  Utopian; 

His  zeal,  fanatic  fire; 
His  death,  a  useless  waste;  his  hope, 

A  puerile  desire. 


(6) 


FIRST    VIEW. 

Geographical. 

Lo!  Africa,  an  ancient  land, 
Of  forests  rich ;  of  golden  sand ; 
Of  wondrous  tales  of  mystery- 
Unwritten  in  pure  History. 
Long  known  in  ages  of  the  Past, 
Unknown  To-day,  and  locked  up  fast. 
As  if  Hesperides  were  true. 
Hiding  its  fruits  from  foreign  view. 
By  gates  of  pestilence  and  fire 
And  jungles  filled  with  monsters  dire. 


The  Sahara.     The  broad  Sahara  stretches  wide 

On  Northern  coast  from  side  to  side; 
Its  arid  wastes  that  lie  between 
Setting  the  rare  oases'  green. 
And  there  in  untamed  freedom  roam 

Hyena,  lion,  fleet  gazelle. 
But  human  being  makes  no  home 

To  break  by  love  the  dreary  spell. 
Save  Tuareg,  with  his  nature  wild, 
The  Desert's  scourge,  a  Desert-child. 


South  Africa.      Far  to  the  South,  in  Temp'rate  zone, 
Civilization's  light  has  shown. 
Now,  where  the  Navigator's  eye 

First  saw  the  Tabled  Mountain's  form 
That  gave  a  "good  hope"  to  his  heart 

Seeking,  through  famine,  war,  and  storm. 
The  path  (to  win  his  monarch's  smile) 

(7) 


Lakes. 


To  Eastern  sea  and  Indian  isle, 

A  better  hope  for  future  days 

Rises,  like  incense,  from  the  lays 

Of  faith  and  truth,  devoutly  sung 

To  cultured  tune  by  savage  tongue 

Of  Zulu,  Kaffir,  Hottentot, 

And  Boschmen  tribes,  whose  former  lot 

(Some  e'en  have  said)  was  sunk  so  low, 

Of  God's  mere  Name  they  did  not  know. 


Rivers  and     Great  Rivers  pour  the  mighty  flood 


They  drain  from  mountain,  lake,  and  wood, 
Coming  from  springs  unseen,  afar. 
Of  unexplored  Interior. 
The  Nile,  a  solemn  mystery. 

As  in  the  ages  gone, 
Flows  in  majestic  loneliness 

From  Source  as  yet  unknown. 
That  Source  kings  sought,  past  Egypt's  soil, 

Past  Nubia,  past  Sennar. 
And  volumes  writ,  with  various  toil. 

Of  rumor  near  and  far. 
But,  ever,  like  the  pursuit  vain, 
A  rainbow's  promised  gold  to  gain, 
Whene'er  they  thought  the  end  they'd  won, 
The  endless  river  still  flowed  on. 
But,  now,  perhaps,  we  dimly  learn 
Where  lies  the  Nile's  great  fountain-urn, 
Snow  mountain  streams  that  flow  to  make 
The  queenly  *Nyanza's  sea-like  Lake. 


Note. — *  The  Victoria  Nyanza,  of  Capt.  Speke. 
(8) 


In  sisterhood  of  Central  Lakes 
Pre-eminence  the  Nyanza  takes. 
And  *Luta-Nzige,  by  her  side, 
A  Consort- Prince  in  royal  pride. 
And,  fTanganjaka,  like  a  leech. 
Winds  southward  far,  as  if  to  reach 
Another  outlet  to  the  sea 

(A  project  vain  and  vain  endeavor) 
Through  Nyasa's  stormy  mountain-lake 

And  Zambesi's  lordly  river. 


A  lordly  river  'tis,  indeed, 

Gath'ring  its  waters  day  by  day 

From  mountain-side  and  fiow'ry  mead. 
And,  in  its  path,  in  giant  play. 

The  earth  devours  with  open  jaw 

(An  African  Niagara) 

The  thund'ring  Cataract  that  raves 

In  |Mosi-o-a-tunya's  waves. 


From  the  same  central  fountain-heads. 
Whence  the  Zambesi  eastward  spreads, 
In  westward  course  and  torrent  flow, 
The  blood-dyed  wave  of  red  Kongo 
Marks  where  the  Slave-Trade  holds  a  seat, 
(Its  kingdom  once)  its  last  retreat 
On  Western  Coast.     That  ruddy  stain, 
Washed  from  the  soil  by  tropic  rain. 
In  solid  stream  with  billowy  sweep. 
Tints  many  a  sea-mile  on  the  deep. 


Note. — *  The  Albert  Nyanza,  of  Sir  Saml.  Baker, 
t  The  Sea  of  Ujiji,  of  Capt.  Burton. 
%  The  Victoria  Falls,  of  Livingstone. 

(9) 


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Adown  that  stream  glide  Floating  Isles, 
Torn  from  the  marshy  banks  away, 

In  living  green  and  flow'ry  smiles: 
For  ocean-gods  a  grand  bouquet! 


There,  too,  Gaboon,  (an  ivory  mart) 
With  fervor  stirs  the  Christian  heart. 
Its  tide,  once  marred  by  Slavery's  trail. 
Is  hallowed  by  the  "*Elfe's"  sail. 

Where  graceful  fEyo's  waters  glide 

To  JMbade's  bluff,  it  laves 
§Bolondo's  feathery  Palms,  beside 

Benita's  mission-graves. 


The  Niger  in  its  current  strong, 
From  mountain  recess  of  the  Kong, 
Its  yellow  tide  with  surf-beat  song 

Pours  from  her  Delta-ed  lips. 
And,  like  a  siren,  with  her  toils, 

She  calls  in  pestilential  breath, 

From  lagoons  redolent  of  death, 
At  whose  palm-banks  with  their  rich  oils. 

Each  foreign  vessel  sips. 

O 

Mountains.     E'en  there,  beneath  that  Torrid  sky. 

Some  Mountains  lift  their  heads  so  high 
They  reach  the  line  of  constant  snow 
On  lofty  lIKilima-njaro; 


Note. — *  A  Mission  Yacht. 

t  Native  name  of  the  Bonito  river. 
t  Station  of  the  Rev.  George  Paull. 
§  Miss  Nassau's  School. 
II  Of  Dr.  Krapf,  of  the  Eastern  Coast. 

(11) 


And  on  the  Peak  of  Teneriffe, 

Whose  rosy  brow  the  clouds  surround, 
To  give  the  raptured  eye  relief, 

Lest  intense  beauty  sight  should  wound. 
(As,   once,   to  classic  maid's  desire, 
Olympian  Zeus,  revealed,  was  fire.) 
And,  on  the  Peak  of  Kamerun, 

That  fronts  Fernando  Po, 
Majestic   Pillars  of  the   "Gate" 

Brave    *Hanno    first   passed   through. 


Islands.     There   Islands  dot  the  low-lined  coast, 

Some  bearing  names  that  History  boast. 

And  one,  great  Madagascar's  isle. 

Of  Christian   Martyrs  was,   erewhile. 

The  grave.    But,  hosts  have  promptly  sprung 

From  that  dear  martyr  blood. 
And,  where  once  idol  rites  were  sung. 

Are  praises  to  our  God. 


Forests.      O'er  all  that   Equatorial  land, 
Abundant  Nature's  lib'ral  hand 
Has  scattered,  with  amazing  power, 
A  nameless  wealth  of  Tree  and  Flower. 
In  forest  aisles  of  giant  trees 

The  sunbeam's  fervid  lance 
Scarce   penetrates.     From   walls   of  green 

Its  broken  fragments  glance. 
A  leafy  wall  of  changing  green; 

As  great  variety 


Note. — *  Admiral  of  the  Carthagenian  Exploring  Fleet. 
(13) 


As  in  the  Autumn  tints  are  seen 

Of  our  own  forest  tree. 
And  o'er  this  verdant  robe  there  grasps 

A  drapery  of  vines. 
It  climbs,  and  twists,  and  trails,  and  clasps, 

And  'round  the  mass  entwines. 
Within  the  shades,  on  rainbow  wing, 

The  birds  flit  in  and  out. 
Their  notes  discordant  chorus  ring 

With  antic  monkeys'  shout. 


Unheaithfui-     To  vicw,  the  sccnc  is  beautiful, 

And  charms  surpassingly; 
But,  Pestilence  and  Fear  are  there. 

And  Death  lies  treacherously. 
Beneath  those  leaves  an  Asp  can  hide. 

There's  Poison  in  that  flower. 
There  Python  and  the  Boa  glide; 
And  Leopards  lurkingly  abide 
In  recess  dark  by  man's  wayside; 

There,  the  Gorilla's  power. 
And  where  the  stilted  Mangrove  leaps 

The  margins  of  the  streams, 
The  Fever-fiend  in  sun-light  creeps, 

Or  stalks  'neath  night's  star-beams. 


(14) 


SECOND   VIEW. 

Moral. 

God's  Earth  is  fair, 

But  Sin's  dark  roots 
Have  made  it  bear 

Us  bitter  fruits. 
Where  Nature  glows 

Most  rich  and  free 
More  darkly  grows 

Man's  infamy. 

O 

Slave  Trade.      A  Niobe,  that  country  stands, 

Her  children  sold  to  other  lands. 
And  weeps  the  living  death  they  die 
In  unrequited   Slavery. 
Weeps  that  the  white  man's  stony  heart 
For  dusky  skins  could  find  a  mart; 
Weeps  her  own  greed  of  foreign  pelf 
That  turned  her  sword  against  herself, 
And,  for  the  trinkets  of  a  day, 
Called  to  a  chain  her  child  from  play. 

O 

Foreign  Evils.      Unchristian  Commerce,  a  Pandora, 
Lies  at  the  mouth  of  ev'ry  river, 
And  gifts  seductive  scatters  far 
That  curse  the  given  and  the  giver. 


Intemperance,  with  fiery  blast. 

Like  lava  in  its  flow. 
Melts  with  its  touch  the  tribes  that  fast 

Down  to  destruction  go. 

(IS) 


3 

And  foreign  Vice  of  cultured  air, 
With  native  vice  entwines. 

Both  worship  pay,  a  shameless  pair, 
At  Lust's  unholy  shrines. 


O 

Polygamy.     A  parasite,  Polygamy, 

Saps  of  its  life  the  social  tree. 

Its  roots  remorseless  eat  away 

What  else  would  grow   'neath   Love's  mild 

sway. 
In  ev'ry  household  act  is  seen 
Reflections  of  its  hideous  mien. 
A  little  girl  you  there  shall  see, 
Scarce  graduate  of  her  mother's  knee, 
Bought  by  some  aged  reprobate. 
Whose  frown  brings  fear,  his  smileher  hate. 
Where  Innocence  secure  should  rest. 
Or  Love-birds  build  their  downy  nest, 
Her  rudely-wakened  heart  soon  gives 
Covert  for  birds  of  filthy  lives. 
Ere  Childhood's  years  are  passed  away, 
She's  taken  by  that  old  man  grey, 
A  new  caprice,  toy  of  a  day, 
To  learn  a  life  with  bitter  lives 
Of  household  slaves  mis-called  his  "wives." 
The  new-found  fav'rite  uses  power 
Despotic  for  her  little  hour; 
(Her  impudence  her  only  wits; 
On  marriage-troth  slight  fealtyrsets) 
Then  sinks  among  the  jealous  crew. 
With  common  cause  'gainst  fav'rite  new. 
The  slavery  is  still  the  same, 

(16) 


For  her  it's  only  changed  its  name. 
But  change  of  name  brings  occupation 
Consistent  with  her  lower  station. 
If  Wifehood  brought  no  Motherhood, 
"Drawer  of  water,  hewer  of  wood" 
Is  thence  her  lot.     And,  in  that  round, 
The  lonely  drudge's  life  is  bound. 

Thus: — Day  by  day,  the  food  to  cook 

For  ev'ry  lazy  guest 
Her  lord  receives  on  Friendship's  claim 

Or  Gluttony's  request. 
And,  often,  like  proud  Pharaoh's  slaves, 

Without  the  straw  to  make  the  brick. 
Though  garden  fail  and  tempest  raves, 

Though  back  be  sore,  and  heart  be  sick. 
If  children  gather  'round  her  knee. 

Their  care  is  all  her  own, 
And  burdens  of  their  infancy. 

Until  their  strength  be  grown. 
And  then  the  father  claims  them  all, 

To  please  his  selfish  wish; 
The  girls,  in  woman's  lot  to  fall; 

The  boys,  to  hunt  and  fish. 

O 

Superstition,      How  strong  is  Supcrstition's  hand! 
Binding  the  heart  with  iron  band. 
In  life,  in  death:    for  There  or  Here, 
Bidding  men  quail  in  craven  fear! 

1 

Not   Love  constrains  those  heathen  minds. 

The  mystery  of  the  Soul 
To  them  is  hid;    it  only  finds 

Demoniac  control. 

(17) 


2 

They  see  in  ev'ry  rock  and  tree 

Not  God,  but  demon  sign. 
The  effort  of  their  Hfe  will  be 

To  thwart  the  Power  malign. 

3 
The  Spirits  live  in  Air  and  Earth, 

In  beasts,  and  bird,  and  fish ; 
In  rags,  and  shells  of  meanest  worth. 

And  watch  our  ev'ry  wish. 

4 
And,  watching  thus,  perhaps  may  grant, 

If  fav'rably  inclined; 
Or,  if  the  Spirit's  chosen  haunt 

The  devotee  can  find. 

5 
And,  here  steps  in  the  Sorceror  bold, 

With  claim  of  magic  skill. 
And  rites,  to  common  eyes  untold, 

A  potent  charm  to  fill. 

6 

That  Fetish-charm,  an  amulet, 

Hung  on  the  door,  or  dress,  or  tree; 

Or,  planted  where  two  ways  are  met. 
Shall  guard  health,  life,  and  property. 

7 
Such  reverence  for  Amulets 
An  influence  for  evil  sets 
On  ev'ry  act,  from  birth  to  death, 
And  e'en  beyond  the  dying  breath. 

(18) 


Witchcraft.      Around  the  dying  and  the  dead 

A  shadow  dark  and  grim  is  spread, 
And  acts  of  horrid  name  and  tone 
At  Witchcraft's  stem  behest  are  done. 

1 

The  sick  man  died.     Quick,  from  his  hut, 

The  voice  of  waihng  rose, 
As  if  Joy's  door  fore'er  was  shut. 

And  Grief's  could  never  close. 

2 

The  fatal  news,  by  forest  path, 

Flies  swift,  or  by  the  ocean's  strand. 

Before  the  avenger's  well-known  wrath 
The  villages  in  terror  stand. 

3 
"Who  killed  this  man?"  said  Sorcery. 

"Who  took  his  life  away? 
Except  for  poison  Witchery, 

Sure  he  were  here  to-day!" 

4 
The  Sorcerer  and  his  chosen  few, 

In  secret  dark  conclave. 
The  dead  man's  history  review. 

With  freeman  and  with  slave. 

5 

This  one  (they  said)  once,  long  ago, 
Had  cursed  the  dead  man's  mother. 

That  one  in  anger  struck  a  blow. 
Or  said,  "You're  not  my  brother!" 

(19) 


6 

This  woman  never  would  obey, 

Nor  did  the  food  prepare. 
That  enemy,  crumbs  stole  away 

And  clippings  of  the  hair. 

7 
On  such  as  this  amazing  ground 

One  was  condemned  to  die; 
Was  seized,  and  chained,  and  guilty  found, 

On  charge  of  Witchery. 

8 
The  crowd  that  stands  about  that  slave 

Is  witness,  judge,  and  jury. 
She  stands  alone ;  accusers  rave 

Around  her  in  their  fury. 

9 
The  spear  and  club,  thorns,  fire,  and  knife 

Compel  her  to  confess. 
Vain  hope!  to  buy  with  perjured  life 

Relief  from  Torture's  stress. 

10 
With  false  confession,  self-condemned, 

The  witch  is  mocked  in  song. 
While  vengeful  heart  and  brutal  hand 

Her  agonies  prolong. 

11 
Down  to  the  margin  of  the  sea 

Her  struggling  form  they  drew; 
With  murderous  haste  and  frantic  glee, 

Sprang  in  a  large  canoe. 

(20) 


12 
They  paddled  quick;  a  sharp  knife  gleams; 

Her  throat  was  o'er  the  side. 
And,  one  by  one,  her  mangled  limbs 

The  reddened  waves  divide. 


(21) 


THIRD  VIEW. 
Evangelistic. 
From  scenes  and  characters  like  these 
Turn  we  to  others  that  may  please 

The  Christian  heart; 
And,  of  the  good,  for  which  you've  prayed, 
Recount  some  works  in  which  I've  played 
An  humble  part. 

Dotting  that  country's  Western  strand, 
There  Mission-Stations  scattered  stand, 
Like  beacon-lights  to  point  the  road 
That  leads  the  heathen  up  to  God. 


Teaching.     Lo!  where  the  Teacher's  patient  hand 
Guides  her  informal  School, 
Unfolding  to  untutored  band 
The  Book  of  heavenly  rule. 
2 
Abroad,  the  light  reflected  glares ; 

While  insects'  strident  hum, 
And  voice  of  birds,  and  scented  airs. 
Through  th'  open  window  come. 
3 
A  light  breeze  fans  the  feverish  cheek, 

And  lifts  the  rustling  page. 
Pray  that  a  breath  of  Life  Divine 
Those  young  hearts  may  engage! 
4 
Their  eager  eyes  the  letters  scan. 

For  knowledge  quick,  intent ; 

On  pow'r  that  shall  ennoble  man, 

Th'  awakened  mind  is  bent. 

(22) 


5 

Not  like  a  sheet  of  clear  blank  white, 
On  which  the  willing  pen  may  write ; 
But,  like  a  tablet  foul,  that  mind 
From  Error  first  must  be  refined. 

6 
The  entering  Word  its  light  can  give 

Those  op'ning  hearts  into; 
Break  Vice's  chain,  bid  Virtue  live. 
And  Conscience  bring  to  view. 

O 

Preaching.      Qr,  follow  where  the  Preacher  goes 
To  villages  around, 
With  news  of  Peace,  where  'mid  their  woes 
Sin's  captives  sad  lie  bound. 

2 

He  passes  through  the  village  street, 

(The  unused  infants  flee) 
And  in  the  *Ikenga  takes  a  seat 

Where  all  can  hear  and  see. 

3 
He  tells  them  he's  a  messenger, 

And  asks  their  quiet  ear. 
Awhile  the  wondrous  News  he  tells, 

The  crowd  press  close  to  hear. 

4 
The  speech  is  strange,  and  some  one  laughs. 

Up  starts  a  patriarch's  hand. 
On  women,  chickens,  children,  dogs, 

Strict  silence  to  command! 


Note. — *  The  public  Reception-room. 
(23) 


5 
Perhaps  the  Preacher  lifts  his  voice 

In  cheerful  hymn  of  praise ; 
The  native  ear  is  musical, 

And  quick  attention  pays. 

6 
And,  then,  the  Message  is  out-spread, 

The  Story  old  and  true, 
Befitting  youth  and  hoary  head. 

And  ever  fresh  and  new, 

7 
How  God  exists,  and  made  each  star; 

And  us  made  pure  and  good; 
That,  though  we've  wandered  sad  and  far, 

His  Love  has  near  us  stood, 

8 
And  sent  a  Son,  whose  victor-strife 

With  Sin  and  Fear  and  Death, 
Can  save,  and  lead  to  better  life 

Beyond  this  mortal  breath. 

9 
The  seed  is  sown.     No  doubt  some  seeds, 

Though  buried  long  they  lie, 
And  sadly  choked  with  tare  and  weeds. 

Shall  bloom  beyond  the  sky. 

O 

Itinerating.     The  Mission-boat  is  on  the  sea. 
Its  errand  there  may  various  be; 
To  transport  food ;  the  Word  to  preach ; 
The  sick  a  healthier  spot  to  reach; 
A  life  to  save;  for  letters,  guests; 
Or,  sent  on  exploration's  quests. 

(24) 


1 

Day's  heat  is  past.     The  boat  is  launched. 

The  sun  sinks  toward  the  west. 
Take  in  the  oars!     Put  up  the  sail! 

With  good  wind  we  are  blest! 

2 

The  night  is  clear.     Stars  mark  our  way; 

Cassiopea's  Chair, 
Orion,  Taurus,  (no  North  star) 

But  the  "Pointers"  two  are  there. 

3 
The  Utembani's  fair  east  wind 

The  main-sail's  sheet  keeps  taut; 
And,  while  it  lasts,  the  crew  may  find 

Their  sleep  on  box  or  thwart. 

4 
At  last  the  night  grew  dark, 

And  strong  the  south  wind  blew, 
The  parted  waves  swept  by  our  barque. 

As  up  that  wind  we  flew. 

5 
But,  now,  this  tack  we've  run  enough; 

This  long  boom  must  come  o'er. 
"  Ready!  "  "About!  "  "  Belay  there!  "  "  Luff!  " 

Speed  for  the  distant  shore! 

6 

We're  flying  from  the  cruel  sea; 

But  yonder  breakers'  roar 
Speaks  to  our  hearts  more  cruelly. 

Tack  out  to  sea  once  more! 

(25) 


A  time  to  try  a  heart  though  bold! 

A  precious  freight  is  there! 
Not  self,  nor  crew,  nor  goods,  nor  gold. 

A  child  and  woman  fair! 

8 

These  waves  are  fearful,  and  the  rain 

Is  pitiless  and  cold. 
So,  tack  toward  shore,  we'll  take  down  sail, 
And  waiting  there  shall  ride  the  gale, 

If  anchor-chain  will  hold. 


Perhaps,  when  standing  in  to  shore. 
We  found  a  sheltered  quiet  bay; 

And,  landing,  sought  the  hut's  rude  door 
Above  the  cove's  white  sand  that  lay. 

10 

The  missionary's  name  is  known. 

He's  welcomed  at  the  fire, 
Where  dripping  clothes  are  hung  to  dry. 
By  food  and  bed  unskilled  hands  try 
To  meet  the  confidence  thus  shown, 

And  hearty  trust  inspire. 

11 

When  'cross  the  sea  the  morn  up-rolled, 

The  storm  had  passed  away. 
Th'  assembled  villagers  were  told 

We  could  no  longer  stay, 

(26) 


12 
The  Word  is  preached ;  a  prayer  is  made ; 

New  native  friendships  sought ; 
Small  gifts  received,  and  debts  repaid, 

And  fresh  provisions  bought. 

13 
Then,  out  again,  the  wave  to  try; 
By  sail  to  tack,  or  oar  to  ply. 
With  varying  breeze  swift  miles  to  pass, 
Or  slow  to  creep  a  sea  like  glass. 

14 
Through  all  those  sultry  hours  of  day, 

The  captain,  sea-sick,  there  would  lie; 

Or  find  from  pain  a  slight  surcease 

By  sleeping  e'en  'neath  noon-tide  sky. 

Seeking  in  troubled  rest  the  ease 
The  storm-night's  vigils  took  away. 

15 
That  long  day  passed.     Another  night 

Fell  'round  us  on  the  sea. 
Here  anchor.     By  to-morrow's  noon. 

We'll  at  our  haven  be. 


A  Communion 

Sunday.  fhis  is  the  Church.     On  rough-made  seat. 

We'll  claim  awhile  its  cool  retreat. 

1 
'Tis  Sabbath-Day.     Communion  Week 

Has  brought,  with  bright  and  solemn  hours, 
The  gath'ring  companies  who  seek 

The  bamboo  church's  opened  doors. 

(27) 


2 
A  motley  crowd  has  hither  rolled, 

To  see  the  "Great  Feast-day," 
Of  heathen,  Christian,  young  and  old, 

Attired  in  best  array. 

3 
Some  come  to  show  the  brilliant  tags 

They've  never  worn  before, 
Reserved  through  months  of  dirt  and  rags, 

And  hid  in  secret  store. 

4 
Some  come  to  please  the  white  man's  eye. 

Each  great  and  special  friend 
Is  hopeful  that  gifts  by-and-by 

The  foreign  hand  will  send. 

5 
Some  come  to  see  how  others  dress; 

Or,  travels  to  recount; 
To  hear  new  converts  Christ  confess 

At  Table  or  at  Font. 


The  few  look  on  that  sacred  scene 

With  reverence  and  love; 
With  knowledge  what  its  symbols  mean, 

And  hopes  this  earth  above. 

7 
Around  the  Table  they  have  come, 

Once,  wanderers  in  Sin. 
While  trav'ling  toward  the  Father's  Home, 

This  is  their  Wayside- Inn. 

(28) 


FOURTH    VIEW. 

Trials. 

Sickness.     Disease  was  on  the  air  last  night. 
To-day's  sun  struck  with  pow'r. 
The  Mission  plans  don't  work  aright. 
Depression  rules  the  hour. 

2 
Then  Sickness  enters  at  the  door. 

(Unasked,  a  hungry  guest.) 
He's  entered  often  there  before, 

And  life  his  sole  request. 

3 
Beneath  his  fever  touch  the  brain 

Throbs  wildly.     From  the  heart. 
Through  bounding  artery  and  vein, 

The  rapid  pulses  start. 

4 
The  light  step  heavy  grows  as  lead, 

And  weary  drop  the  hands 
That  strive  to  fill,  in  weakness  still, 

Th'  excited  will's  commands. 

5 
Alternate  cold,  alternate  heat. 

The  poor  weak  body  racks ; 
While  thought  runs  on,  with  pinion  fleet, 

O'er  infinite  long  tracks. 

6 
The  thoughts  of  home,  of  fear,  of  love. 

Of  work,  of  plan,  of  care. 
The  busy  brain  has  strength  above 

The  strength  to  do  or  dare. 

(29; 


Death.  Some,  when  the  storm  of  Fever  flew, 

Qtiick  as  tornado  blast, 
Like  reeds,  low  bowed,  awhile  it  blew, 
And  rose  when  it  was  past. 

2 
But,  some  rise  not.     The  pliant  reed 

Had  borne  blasts  oft  and  well. 
This  blew  too  fierce.     The  bruised  reed 

Lay  broken  where  it  fell. 

3 
Tornado  passed.     Enough  to  know 

That  Visitor  is  gone ; 
Nor  dare  to  call  him  robber,  though 

He  went  not  out  alone! 

4 
Take  up  the  little  he  has  left. 

It  looks  like  kindred  clay. 
They  say  that  this  is  Death.     The  dead 

Must  needs  be  put  away. 

5 
It  is  not  death.      We  do  not  die. 

Dust  does.     So,  tenderly, 
We'll  bear  this  precious  dust  to  lie 

Where  others'  grave-mounds  be. 


A  Cemetery.  'Tis  chosen  well,  that  little  yard 

Of  missionary  graves. 
Just  near  the  house  they  liked  on  earth. 
And  by  the  ocean's  waves. 

(30) 


2 
The  forest  trees  are  undisturbed 

By  axe  or  Art's  curt  style, 
Save  where  a  winding  path  pursues 

Nature's  own  wooded  aisle. 

3 
The  vines  may  clamber  unrestrained, 

And  light  fall  cheerily 
O'er  grass  and  bush,  where  birds  untamed 

Still  twitter  merrily. 

4 
But  Art  its  added  hand  has  set 

(Not  taken  aught  away) 
Where   Love  has  sought,   on  marble  fair, 

To  save  from  Time's  decay 
Dear  names  whose  lives  and  mem'ries  rare 
We  can  not  willingly  forget. 

5 
There  Infancy  was  laid  to  rest. 

And  (^)   Manhood  in  his  strength. 
And   patient    (^)    Womanhood.     How  blest, 

To  reach  their  home  at  length! 

6 

On  a  mound  where  a  beautiful   (^)    infant's 

form  sleeps, 
Recumbent,  a  lamb  fit  companionship  keeps, 
With  a  name  and  with  dates;  but  the  stone's 

mute  lips  tell 
No  tale  save  the  legend  that  says,     "It  is 

well." 


Note. — (n  Rev.  S.  Reutlinger. 

(2)  Mrs.  Menaul. 

(3)  George  Paull  Nassau. 

(32) 


Yet,  though  those  lips  so  silent  are, 
Another's  record's  cherished  there. 
Whose  vivid  life-work  there  was  found, 
Whose  grave  is  on  Corisco's  ground. 
Mound,  stone,  and  name,  remind  to  all 
Benita's  pioneer,   (^)   George  Paull. 

There  too,  beneath  the  fervid  sky, 

Where  sunbeams  blaze  by  day; 
Or,  when  the  moon  has  mounted  high, 

Cool  mystic  shadows  play; 
Where  stars  so  silently  look  down, 

Through  vistas  of  the  night. 
From  Southern  Cross  and  Southern  Crown, 

On  marble  cold  and  white, 
The  light  of  sun  and  moon  and  star 

On  tablet-sculptured  Cross  rests  calm, 
Benita's  brave-borne  cross  of  (^)  her 

Who  wears  Benita's  Crown  and  Palm. 


Note. — (1)  Rev.  George  Paull. 

(2)  Mrs.  Mary  C.  Nassau 


(33) 


EPILOGUE. 

1 

Light  for  the  Future!     By  river,  o'er  hill, 
The  promise  of  good  each  year  shall  fulfill, 
"We  stretch  out  the  hand!  "  shall  Africa  sing, 
Salvation  to  crave,  and  tribute  to  bring. 

2 

(^)"  Spero  meliora!  "  hear  Commerce  proclaim. 
We  "better  things"  trust  through  a  Crucified 

Name, 
When    nevermore    purchased    thy    children 

shall  be. 
And  thy  harvests  respond  to  the  toil  of  the 

free. 

3 

Free!     from     the     chains    superstition     has 

bound! 
Free!  from  the  stains  which  thy  Vices  have 

found! 
Free!  from  the  gmlt  of  the  innocent  blood! 
Free!    from    the  rags  thou  hast    worshiped 

as   God! 

4 

Light  for  the  Future!  o'er  mountain  and  dale! 
Light  for  the  Future!  by  forge  and  by  rail! 
Light  for  the   Future!  through   Church  and 

through  State! 
Light  for  the  Future!  where  ransomed  ones 

wait! 


Note. — (1)  Motto  of  the  British-African  Steam  Navigation  Co. 
(34) 


L'ENVOI. 

Night's  lamps  bum  low.     My  task  is  writ. 

There's  ashes  on  the  hearth. 
Accept  the  song,  and  reckon  it 

Just  at  its  slightest  worth. 
As  guests  of  mine,  some  day  retrace 

The  Ocean  path  I've  come, 
A  stranger  here.     You'll  find  a  place 

In  Africa,  my  home. 

March  1872. 


(35) 


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